What She Is
by Mizu Iruka
Summary: He is tired, and she is just one more stupid ape, getting in the way. But then again, maybe not. Oneshot.


She is just one more stupid ape, getting in the way.

The Doctor has traced the plastic down to the basement of Henrik's, and he sees her, trying to escape, cornered by living plastic. She's all pink and yellow, probably just another silly girl with no future. But he is the Doctor. He should save her.

He's just so tired of saving everyone. And failing.

Something about her . . . she doesn't scream, when she is about to die. She is brave. The Doctor's feet propel him towards this worthless human, and he grabs her hand, and tells her to run.

After his brief fit of heroism, the Doctor parries the human's annoying questions with a jerky quickness that seems inherent to this regeneration. Soon as possible, he drops her off. Curiosity. How human of her. And he didn't like humans, not really.

But he does ask her name. Idle curiosity. Oh, so he is a little curious. Well, maybe that wasn't a human trait. Or maybe humans had stolen it from Time Lords.

Rose.

It is a pretty name that somehow was both simple and pure enough to encompass the girl. The Doctor brushes it off, using another rapid-fire remark to get rid of her.

"Nice to meet you, Rose. Run for your life."

He blows up the store, and his mind is _definitely_ not on Rose. Not that he thinks of her by her first name. No. She is a human, that'll be the last time he sees her, end of story.

Then somehow, the signal for the living plastic ends up with him staring at her through a cat flap. The Doctor is shocked, possibly even caught off guard. He has completely put her out of his mind. Completely. Why did she crop up now?

"What're you doing here?" he asks logically.

"I live here," she replies, seeming as shocked as him.

"Well, what do you do that for?" the Doctor continues indignantly, still trying to decide why she was standing there.

"Because I do. I'm only at home because someone blew up my job."

Oh, so now she is sassy and blaming him as well. The Doctor refocuses on the mission, ignoring the annoying human. "I must have got the wrong signal. You're not plastic, are you?" he scans her, just to be sure. "No, bonehead. Bye, then."

And then she's pulling him into house, and for some reason he's letting her.

He avoids a situation with Rose's-the human's-mother. Somehow she is more appalling than her daughter is.

The Doctor ferrets around the apartment as Ro-the human-prattles on. It's been a while since he's been in someone's house, and he really wants to just keep moving. Must be this regeneration. Fidgety.

He finds her full name. Rose Tyler. He tests it, liking the way it rolls out of his mouth with the new accent. Not that he likes her name. Just his own accent. That's all.

The signal is explained by the arm. It begins to choke him, and the Doctor fights it without Rose even noticing for a while until she enters the room again.

Then it flies at her, and all bets are off. He fights to save her, and the feelings are somewhat overwhelming.

She is just another pointless human. He ignores her.

And so the Doctor strides away. No more distractions. He has a world to save, and no pink and yellow human is going to mess him up.

Rose Ty-the human-follows. Question after question, and the Doctor answers with short, and sometimes sarcastic, answers.

She catches him off guard.

"But, all this plastic stuff. Who else knows about it?"

"No one," the Doctor answers honestly.

"What, you're on your own?"

He is alone. He chokes back his feelings and says bluntly, "well, who else is there?" For good measure, he throws in some aspersions on her race. Humans. Useless creatures.

She asks for an explanation, he gives it. He marvels in the fact that she's still trying to figure it out. It's not just idle curiosity. Idle curiosity would have given up at the door to her flat.

"Do you believe me?" he finishes his explanation.

"No," she says.

"But you're still listening." And she is. Rose Tyler is listening, and it makes things feel better. And the Doctor doesn't know why.

"Really, though, Doctor." He likes the way she says his name. "Tell me, who are you?"

For some strange reason, the Doctor feels compelled to take her hand.

"Do you know like we were saying about the Earth revolving? It's like when you were a kid. The first time they tell you the world's turning and you just can't quite believe it because everything looks like it's standing still. I can feel it. The turn of the Earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling round the sun at sixty seven thousand miles an hour, and I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go . . ."

The Doctor drops her hand. It was a little melodramatic of him, but there it was. "That's who I am." It's the most truthful and open he's been in far too long. And he remembers that even though he doesn't care what happens to this human, he doesn't want her to get near him.

He's dangerous. "Now, forget me, Rose Tyler. Go home."

He leaves her, but somehow has a feeling he'll see her again. And there she is, having dinner with an auton, oblivious to it all. It should be annoying, her naivete, but somehow it is rather endearing.

The Doctor pulls off the auton's head, and it goes crazy, its body chasing them.

"Everyone out! Out now! Get out! Get out! Get out!" Rose shouts, and the Doctor is surprised. He hadn't thought of helping the others, and he is slightly ashamed.

He takes her into the TARDIS. The giddy part of him realizes that he wants to see her face, but he pretends to be busy at the console, just to keep up appearances.

The Doctor turns to her. "Where do you want to start?" he prompts.

"Er, the inside's bigger than the outside?"

"Yes." So far she hasn't made her self sound too much like an idiot.

"It's alien."

"Yeah." She's smart. He likes that.

"Are you alien?"

And she's drawn the connection. "Yes. Is that all right?" For some reason, he's rather frightened of what she might say.

"Yeah."

And so it begins.

Of course she starts crying, and he has to figure out what on earth it's about. Ah. Her boyfriend. How droll.

The Doctor ran out of the door. He was not wimping out on domestics, he just had a world to save. "I lost the signal, I got so close."

"We've moved. Does it fly?" The Doctor had distracted her, but he didn't smile. Instead, he decided to insult her. That was easier.

"Disappears there and reappears here. You wouldn't understand."

Surprisingly, she doesn't take the bait. She jumps ahead. "If we're somewhere else, what about that headless thing? It's still on the loose." Rose is still thinking about her boyfriend.

"It melted with the head. Are you going to witter on all night?" He's exasperated now. She's acting too human for him.

"I'll have to tell his mother. Mickey. I'll have to tell his mother he's dead, and you just went and forgot him, again! You were right, you are alien."

The Doctor shouldn't be offended, but he somehow is. "Look, if I did forget some kid called Mickey . . ."

"Yeah, he's not a kid." He's kind of angry that she's defending the idiot.

". . . it's because I'm trying to save the life of every stupid ape blundering on top of this planet, all right?"

"All right."

"Yes, it is!" He's still defending himself, even though he has nothing to be sorry for. He doesn't, right?

"If you are an alien, how comes you sound like you're from the North?" It's such a random question, but somehow seems like something she'd ask.

"Lots of planets have a north," he defends. Of course, he has no idea himself.

"What's a police public call box?" Rose is so inquisitive. Why isn't it annoying?

"It's a telephone box from the 1950s. It's a disguise."

"Okay. And this, this living plastic. What's it got against us?" She's really asking all the right questions.

"Nothing. It loves you. You've got such a good planet. Lots of smoke and oil, plenty of toxins and dioxins in the air, perfect. Just what the Nestene Consciousness needs. It's food stock was destroyed in the war, all its protein plants rotted, so Earth, dinner!"

"Any way of stopping it?" He likes this girl, this human.

"Anti-plastic."

"Anti-plastic," she repeats.

"Anti-plastic. But first I've got to find it. How can you hide something that big in a city this small?" he focuses on the task at hand.

She slows him down. "Hold on. Hide what?"

"The transmitter. The Consciousness is controlling every single piece of plastic, so it needs a transmitter to boost the signal."

For once, he's the one who's slow as she stares at the London Eye. The Doctor realizes he's fallen. Fallen hard for this girl, this ape.

He struggles on the abyss, fighting over the living plastic. About to die. Of course, when he dies, he just regenerates. He could always choose to _not_ regenerate though. It would be fitting . . . to die to save the planet. Be rid of all the guilt for those he couldn't save.

But then Rose Tyler swings out of nowhere, and she saves the world. The Doctor feels something deep inside of him, and it feels right.

He's staring at the console. For once, he wants to go back. The Doctor never goes back, never stops, never asks a second time. But this time . . . Rose Tyler. He says her name aloud, to the empty TARDIS, and feels lonely.

She didn't want to come with him. She had said so. It was nothing to him, she was just some stupid ape. Right?

The Doctor's fingers are trembling. He sets the coordinates for . . . well, somewhere. He isn't sure where. A split second, and he changes his mind.

She is Rose Tyler, and it's who she is that is important.

"Did I mention it travels in time?"


End file.
